


These are the days of our lives (formerly "Domestic snippets of life")

by Banashee



Series: Somebody to Love (Phlint Verse) [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, Swearing, Team as Family, Tony Starks Coffee Machine with too much personality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 02:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: Some fluff and domestic snippets from the Avengers Tower, mostly centering Clint and Phil.This was mainly an excuse for me to use some of my headcanons and little ideas that float around my brain.





	These are the days of our lives (formerly "Domestic snippets of life")

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> thanks for clicking!  
> Like I said, this is mainly an excuse to write some fluff and unse some headcanons. 
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> Edit. I just pushed this farther back in the Verse because this is where it fits best now.

**Domestic snippets of life**

 

1)

 

Mornings suck ass.

That's the general rule, at least if you asked Clint.

It's 6am on a Monday, which is a bad sign all in itself, but to absolutely royally ruin his day already, the coffee maker isn't working. He glares at the machine and keeps pressing buttons, which is met with silence, and no life saving brown liquid.

 

"Work, you Fucker." he snarls at the thing, and gets a beep in response that sounds surprisingly offended for a machine. Damn you, Tony.

 

If looks could kill and inanimate objects were alive, the Stark Customized Coffee Maker would have dropped dead by now. Clint growls at it in frustration.

Behind him, Phil puts a hand on his shoulder and frowns. Apart from the dark circles under his eyes, he looks impeccable as always.

He's about to say something, when Tony himself comes shuffling in the kitchen, hair a greasy mess and with stains all over his shirt and sweatpants. The inventor makes a beeline for the coffeemaker and eyes the two Agents who are still in the same spot.

 

"Why is everyone standing in the way?"

"Your piece of shit machine is mocking me." the archer answers through clenched teeth.

"If you'd be so kind and fix it, Stark. We all need caffeine to live." Phil says, and steps to the side, pulling Clint with him before he actually does physical damage to anything.

 

Tony eyes the machine suspiciously. He steps closer.

"Stop. Fucking. Around. And. Make. Coffee." Every word is reinforced with his fist hammering on top of the machine. With no result apart from more protesting beeps.

 

"It's truly fascinating to watch your genius at work."

 

He may have been awake for 72 hours but he's about to say something as he turns around and opens his mouth to say... Something clever, fuck you very much.

He's about to, but is gently pushed to the side by Doctor Banner, who is only half paying attention, muttering under his breath with a stack of notes under his arm and a gigantic mug in one hand. "Let's do science, Bitches!" is printed on it in bold letters, Tony's idea of a joke, but he loves the thing, because again, it is big and holds about three regular cups of liquid.

 

Bruce is pressing a button and hitting the machine once, and lo and behold, it produces coffee.

He mumbles something that might be "Good morning" to the room in general and then leaves the kitchen, probably heading right back to his lab.

 

Yeah, Mornings suck ass.

 

 

 

2)

 

"When we get home. Let's just sleep for like two years."

Words are hard right now, and Clint is having trouble to keep his eyes open. He might be slurring a little, but as always, he refuses to go to sleep until they're back at the tower.

"I won't complain about that, promise."

They sit in the back of a SHIELD issued car, and with the privacy screen up, Phil feels secure enough to rest his head on Clint's shoulder. It's a sign of trust and vulnerability which neither of them would normally allow themselves to show in public, especially on duty. Technically, they're done working, but still.

Clint hums in agreement, and rests his head on top of Phils and they spend to rest of the ride in silence.

 

Getting up, to their apartment and into the shower is a slow process.

Neither of them has any injuries, but after a spending a whole week on a clusterfuck of a mission, both of them are sore and exhausted.

 

They are greeted by Lucky, who wags his tail in excitement and jumps up and down to give them very wet but loving dog kisses. It's nice to be missed.

 

Before they stumble into the shower, they pull a lasagna out of the freezer, where they always keep home cooked meals for a quick bite after returning home from work, when neither of them feels like doing much.

The hot water feels like heaven and they linger a bit, keeping each other upright and working knots out of their backs. But hunger and exhaustion lure them out of the bathroom soon, and when they make themselves comfortable on the spacious couch, inhaling the scent of tomato sauce, herbs and melted cheese, and Lucks is waiting for scrabs to fall down.

By the time they're done, they're about to fall asleep. Staying on the couch is tempting, but Phil knows that his back will not appreciate it in the morning, and he says as much.

Clint grumbles halfheartedly, but pulls himself up after a moment.

 

Sleep. Sleep sounds amazing.

Phil climbs into their king sized bed, quickly followed by Clint who happily curls up around him and places his face in the crook of his neck, letting out a long breath. Phil warps both arms around him, and buries his nose in the unruly blond hair that smells faintly of sandalwood shampoo and closes his eyes.

The mattress dips lightly, and the dog curls up by their feet, lulling them to sleep with his deep even breathing.

 

 

 

3)

 

It's too early for conversation.

Most of them agree about that, because mornings are hard and beds are soft and welcoming when the outside world is not. At least, at home they have coffee and pleasant company.

Even though “company” involves cheerful early morning heathens like Steve and Thor who don't need much sleep and are in a painfully good mood way too fucking early, completely without caffeine.

It's a little creepy, but they're loved and part of the family, so. But still. Why.

 

Clint is currently on the stove, inhaling black coffee directly from a pot while making pancakes with one hand. There is no crisis and he doesn't have to be anywhere today, so this is about as much as he can manage right now.

Coffee. Making breakfast. That's it.

 

Seeing as he's home in the tower, he's feeling completely safe. So when something tucks at him, and then suddenly there is a weight on top of him, he doesn't do anything. He merely stops what he is doing and holds his coffeepot and spatula while staring at the batter in the pan. The weight sits right on his shoulders, and a slim, pale hand is reaching for the extra large glass of Nutella on the top shelf.

 

Obviously satisfied with her prey, Natasha hops down, snatches a spoon from the drawer and sits down at the kitchen table.

 

Clint flips the pancake.

 

 

4)

 

The vibration of his ringing phone leaves the whole coffee table shaking.

Glasses and bottles of various drinks, bowls with sweet and savory snacks, other cellphones and random junk perform a little dance on the tabletop, and seconds later Clint fishes it out of the pile and answers with a smile when he sees the caller ID.

 

“Hi Phil.” There is a crash in the background and Clint casually gets up to avoid getting caught up in the chaos.

“Hi yourself. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm good. We're having Game Night, and Thor is trying if he can use Mjölnir as a controller.”

“Will the place still stand when I get back or do we need to go house hunting?” comes the dry reply, and a grin is spreading out on Clint's face.

“Eh, just minor damages so far. I think we'll be fine.”

Another crash, and a sheepish “Oops!” from the God of Thunder can be heared.

“Possibly. Maybe.” He doesn't turn around to check out the damage. “How's Brussels?”

“Not nearly as interesting as whatever the hell seems to be going on back home, but we're good.” Phil answers, and Clint can hear the smile in his voice.

“Can't say we're bored here, no. Do you know when you're coming back?” he asks.

“In a few days at least, maybe a week.” A pause. “I miss you.”

Yeah, that feeling is definitively mutual. “Love you, Phil.”

“I love you, too. Hey, so I need to get back to work, but I'll call you soon okay?”

“Be safe.” After a little moment, he adds, “And go kick some ass.”

 

 

5)

 

Phil is in the Quinjet back to New York. The OP was successful, everybody alive and the intel secured. The team is scattered around, and he can feel his phone vibrating in his jacket. When he pulls it out, it's a message from Clint.

 

**Clint 💜🏹:** _So apparently we have an official YouTube channel now._

**Phil 💙🕶:** _“We”?_

**Clint 💜🏹:** _Official Avengers YouTube Channel. We can totally blame Tony, he came up with it. It's pretty hilarious tho._

 

There is a link attached, and Phil carefully plugs in his headphones before he dares clicking it. Who knows what Stark cooked up now. There is no need to let everyone around him know... Yet. It's the internet, they will see it sooner or later, he doesn't have any delusions there.

 

The channel pops up, and there are are already quite a few videos up.

Turns out, they seem to have recorded the whole “Thor using Mjölnir as video game controller” thing, because that's the title of the very first upload.

Other clips have titles such as “Captain America's laughing fits in slow motion” , “Dr. Bruce Banner sleeping in unusual places”, “Iron Man Test Flights (FAIL!!!)”, “Black Widow may be deadly – but too short to reach high places without climbing” and, the newest video, “Hawkeye searching for shit he keeps losing for 6 minutes straight”

 

He clicks on that last one. It's a compilation of JARVIS recordings from the common area, and they're all sped up and with no audio. Instead, the cheerful notes of “Yakety Sax” keep playing in the background while Clint, clad in either sweatpants or his battle uniform is breezing around the place, tearing the couch apart, jumping up into the vents and crawling under tables with that gorgeous ass on full display... A sight he'll never get tired of, but this whole presentation, he has to give Stark credit for, is pretty hysterical.

 

Phil takes a deep breath and schools his face in a bland, emotionless expression, but the corners of his mouth are still twitching. He stops the video, before he bursts out laughing on a plane full of SHIELD Agents.

 

 **Phil 💙🕶:** _Oh. My. Fucking. God._

**Clint 💜🏹:** _I know right?_

 

 

 

6)

 

As it turns out, the world still kind of hates them.

When Phil gets home he's not even there for five minutes, and the Avengers Alarm sounds and JARVIS announces the need to assemble.

 

Fucking Doctor Doom and his piece of Shit Doombots. At least they are satisfying to blow up.

 

This fight is a quick one, thankfully, and by the end of it they're all scratched up – the dang things had claws this time – but no one died and none of the Avengers got any serious injuries, and they're all fine after a few stitches at the most.

 

After they all shuffle off in different directions for long, hot showers, they eventually get back in the living room and end up in a pile on the spacious couch.

There are mountains of blankets, somebody ordered Pizza and all of them have their limbs knotted up with someone else. Legs are tangled, heads are pillowed on various teammates bodyparts and everyone, while tired, is happy and content to share the space.

 

Clint is squashed inbetween Phil and Natasha, one arm slung around him. Lucky is dozing and sprawled out on his legs. Clint absentmindedly pets his head. Occasionally he ends up petting Tony's head instead of the dog, because the billionaire shares the place with the yellow lab, and neither of them gives a shit, because Clint, as a dog owner is so used to petting anything that ends up in his lap and Tony is already snoring and drooling onto his friends pants.

Phil watches the whole thing in quiet amusement and is grinning , fingers running lightly over his partners scruffy jaw while he finally settles in.

 

It's good to be home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
